


Screaming Colour

by ohmaggies (orphan_account)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Soulmate AU, This is such trash, be ready to break your heart, except monty is different and doesn't know why, i finally reveal why monty is different!, soulmate au where you see in colour when you meet your soulmate, third person monty pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ohmaggies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Most of the kids born on the Ark were colour-blind, growing up with no true idea of what their eye colour was or even how light or dark their hair was. It sure seemed to make getting dressed harder, and telling herbs and plants apart, but Monty never really had that problem.'</p>
<p>the soulmate au where once you meet your soulmate you see in colour until one of you dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Space And Earth

Most of the kids born on the Ark were colour-blind, growing up with no true idea of what their eye colour was or even how light or dark their hair was. It sure seemed to make getting dressed harder, and telling herbs and plants apart, but Monty never really had that problem.

Jasper did; he used to stare over in wonder at his friend and ask dumbfounded how he could tell one from the other if he hadn’t ever met his soulmate.

Monty Green had almost always seen in colour. He didn’t know if it was because he didn’t have a soulmate- which happened sometimes- or because he had already met them, but the moment he turned five, the world around him swirled in greens, blues, reds and yellows- every colour imaginable.

He didn’t tell his best friend that years from then, when they were locked up in prison, that sometimes, he didn’t see in colour anymore, just blacks and whites and mostly greys. On the occasion, he would see Jasper and hues previously blind to the eye would paint the world again. His cell was just slack grey concrete until his best friend walked past, a lopsided grin directed at Monty, and colour flashed before his eyes then was gone.

Monty didn’t tell anyone.

A woman from Hydra station used to sit around the lunch tables on occasion and rattle off stories, and he would go and listen. She would whisper to the little kids- though her words were anything but gospel truth- that she once fell in love with a woman. It was rare and most people hadn’t ever heard of it before but it give Monty hope that maybe Jasper Jordan, of all people, was inexplicably his soulmate.

She died not long after telling him how the woman she loved had been floated when she turned eighteen, and the woman from Hydra was sixteen. _I never saw in colour after that_ she would croak.

He spent years talking to the elderly and trying to coax stories out of them; anything that would explain how he felt. As far as he knew, that blinding white and black that crossed his vision whenever he parted from his best friend wasn’t normal. When you met your soul mate, you saw in colour until they died, not until you couldn’t see them anymore.

For years and years, he spent his entire life in space pining over Jasper Jordan and helping him pick out clothes and explaining the colour of that girl’s hair or that girl’s eyes, and for years, he really believed that he wasn’t destined to be soulmates with anyone.

Maybe he was one of the unlucky ones; maybe he wasn’t destined to ever be with anyone in his entire life.

It was a lot harder to look his best friend in the eye when they got busted for using recreational herbs and it was Monty’s fault for not replacing what they took. He apologised so much, for everything he could, and he never stopped, even when they saw each other pass each other’s cells with their guards and he would whisper an apology under his breath or hope Jasper could see the regret in his eyes.

It was like that for a while- the constant apologies and twinges of guilt that stuck him whenever he saw his best friend and remembered that this wasn’t their fault, just Monty’s.

Even when their guards unlocked their cells and pulled them out into a hall and the walls, no matter how grey, were splashed in colour when Jasper crossed his vision, materialising out of nowhere with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Dude,” he whispered, the excitement hard to hide in his voice. “We’re going to earth.”

Monty felt a small needle prick his neck and when he woke up, he was settled next to Jasper, red belts restraining him to his seat and his best friend’s eye on some pretty girl up ahead. Even looked at him then, he thought it was weird that he couldn’t see in colour. He was looking at Jasper and even then, the world had never seemed duller than it ever had.

The teenager thought that maybe he was different and, well, he was.

* * *

When they got down in the dropship, Jasper leant closer into him, hot breath against Monty’s cheek, and whispering something about how the pretty girl to the right had the most beautiful chestnut hair he had ever seen and Monty just knew; he knew but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if it was because he started to see in colour when he met Jasper as a child or because later on when Octavia was pulled from the water, she let out an excruciating cry and asked what colour the sky was.

Because maybe she hadn’t thought to ask earlier but she can’t see the blue overhead and Monty felt his heart sink deep into his chest at the realisation.

His best friend helped her up nonetheless, adjusting his goggles on his head, and later, when the spear lodged into him, Monty saw the colour drain from his world. He was too shocked to let out a scream or yell, but his throat constricted and the sky became draped in white and Clarke’s blonde hair was bleached light grey.

The boy saw his friend lying there with a spear in his chest and his breath caught in his throat before Finn shoved him forward. They were running, feet treading on the undergrowth below and suddenly colours were flashing so bright and vibrant across Monty’s vision that they made him trip, hands outspread as he fell to the ground, the screaming colours replaced by stark darkness.

Octavia yelled his name in desperation, reaching for him on the ground, a hand looped around his bicep trying to hold him up. Finn was by his side in an instant, both of them moving to lift him to his feet.

Clarke paused momentarily, staring at them for a split second before she moved forward, movements less than hesitant, and Jasper’s name left her lips. Her blue orbs shined ahead, calculated fear reflecting in them and her hands shaking nervously by her side.

For a second- no more than that- Monty saw in colour again. It was like a slap in the face or like someone had thrown buckets of paint into his face, blinding him.

The teenager sprang into action despite his fall, running after the only Griffin on earth with determination. She was fast and he struggled to keep up with her, especially after stumbling to the ground to be face to face with death- or what once was a living being.

Jasper wasn’t there, just the sign streaked in blood, and in one blink, Monty’s world faded straight back to grey, tears blurring his vision.

His leg burned and he struggled to breath, just glaring around him in panic with widened eyes while his eyes caught sight of the ‘Mount Weather’ sign. He wanted to swim across the lake and tear it apart with his bare hands and throw it into the water and break it in half and—

Most of all, he wondered why Finn couldn’t have gone first; why his best friend had to impress his one-sided soulmate and instead wound up with something sharp buried in his chest.

He stared at Finn with rage in his eyes.

Soon, Monty gave up. He bowed his head and thanked whatever God existed for giving him a friend like Jasper Jordan; for letting him fall in love with him for ten years and even though it was never returned, those were the best damn years of his entire life, and it was going to take an entire lifetime for him to find someone as good as the boy who had let him see in colour.

They made it back to the camp before dark, Monty holding up Octavia as she knelt into his side, small moans and pained groans leaving her mouth on occasion. She was probably bleeding through the material wrapped around her wound but she didn’t care, just was glad to see her brother, and leapt into his arms, a joyous giggle escaping her throat.

Clarke saw in colour and even though she doesn’t say she can, they all knew. Finn looked at her in curiosity when she pointed at the forestry around her, whispering with wondrous happiness something about how utterly beautiful it was under her breath, hands held out to catch the small drops of rain cascading down from the clouds above. People without soulmates don’t see beauty in the world; Monty knew that more than anyone.

One day and counting since he last saw anything other than grey, black, white, or the inside of his own eyelids, and he knew he was going to have to get used to it; his whole life was flipped upside down since losing Jasper.

When the blonde later told him he was useful- that for obvious reasons she can’t risk him out in the field meaning he can’t go on the rescue mission to save his best friend- Monty reached forward, clinging onto anything he could find. Clutching her bicep with his hand, he gave her a long, hard look, rickety breaths through his nose. He didn’t want to insist, didn’t want to tell her that he was so much in-love with Jasper and possibly their best chance of getting the goggle-boy back, so he didn’t, just said that they needed him there.

A strange sort of recognition fluttered in her eyes before she nodded slightly, a crooked smile tilted upon her face.

No one argued when Clarke pulled Monty behind her, said how he was crucial for their mission, and even Bellamy, who went to say something but shut his mouth before he could, held Clarke’s same recognition in his eyes. He nodded over at Jasper’s best friend before Monty stuck his hands in his pockets, following them cautiously and wordlessly, his world flashing in black and white.

Sometime later, the blonde holds up a hand, kneeling down beside something while Murphy’s nose scrunched up at the sight. “There’s blood,” she said, touching the liquid by Monty’s feet lightly with her fingers. “See? It’s red.”

Monty didn’t know because for that moment, he wasn’t exactly seeing all the colours on the colour wheel, but Bellamy did, his throat constricting and his head nodding in agreement, leaning forward to examine it himself. He looked at her differently, softer than he had before, and even when he spoke to her, his voice was far kinder. “It’s dark, Clarke. How do we even know we’re getting close?”

Finn saw in colour too, made a comment about how the sky was getting darker and it was getting late, probably a sign they should get moving, and said he now had a favourite colour. He forgot to mention that he probably had one because of Clarke but Monty let it slide.

Even Murphy agreed sometime later, when they all walked past and he was left staring at the slimy blood coating the rocks, Monty fishing Jasper’s goggles up and occupied with giving them a quick scrub clean. The older boy toed the blood with the front of his boot and his face squished up in disgust. He looked like he wanted to make a comment about the liquid but instead glanced over at Bellamy’s descending figure, called after him something about Finn being right.

He said he didn’t exactly ace Earth Skills, he snorted, but he knows about day and night; can tell the dark blue filling out the sky above them means that night is fast approaching.

Monty hung around at the back of the group, figuring out slowly, and a few hours later, why they all saw in colour. Even Wells, who at some point handed a flower to Clarke and told her it’s pink, like the bow she once wore in her hair when they were eleven years old on the Ark. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to know that the Chancellor’s son had a hard-on for the healer’s daughter.

From the way Wells stared at Clarke, and Clarke stared at Finn, and Bellamy stared at Clarke, and Murphy stared at Bellamy, he just _knew._ It was so goddamn obvious but he didn’t say anything- not a peep- just kept his mouth shut until they found Jasper, and in the span of almost five seconds, or before he could even call out for anyone, hues were flashing before him in colours so vibrant and _not_ dull that he stumbled to the floor clumsy, legs flying out beneath him.

Jasper was there, subtle moans flowing from between unconscious lips and weary eyes flickering open and shut. He was alive, and that was more than Monty probably ever could’ve asked.

“We need to cut him down,” Clarke voiced, barking about orders to everyone and glancing back at Bellamy, who was standing with Murphy, and their shoulders pressed together. “Hey, you got a gun?” slipped from the blonde’s mouth while the eldest Blake sibling nodded in response, lifting up the back of his shirt to expose the weapon as he had also done back at camp.

An animalistic growl sounded behind them, the rustle of bushes loud and clear. The teenagers spun, minus Bellamy who reached for the firearm only to come up empty.

Their mouths dropped open, eyes widened, and panic quickly setting in. Wells quickly bounded in-front of Clarke to the rescue, Finn taking the opportunity of the distraction to start cutting Jasper down with Murphy hot on his tail, a blade offered up to the spacewalker.

A beast emerged from their surroundings and a gunshot crackled through the air, just a single one, and took the massive beast down, the end of a gun smoking in Wells hands as he shook.

The chancellor’s son dropped it with a clang, ignoring the rage pinching Bellamy’s features as he stared at the gun- _his_ gun- discarded by Wells feet. It was a dangerous gamble taking the gun and Clarke still had to struggle to move once again, body tight with fear. Her arms were shaking at her side, lips still pressed tight against each other and feet still inching back away from the danger as if she hadn’t noticed that it was over; that the monster was dead, that the boy who had once been her best friend had killed it and saved her life.

The blonde took a miscalculated step back, foot slipping out beneath her as she fell down, and back, into a large ditch dug into the ground, the hand that leapt forward to reach for her hand moved so fast that she could barely open her mouth to scream out in horror.

Monty wasn’t exactly strong, nor was he the most athletic, but he still kept a firm grip on her hand, her face contorting in pleasant thanks though she still looked terrified to be hanging over the pikes rammed into the ground beneath- likely to catch the beast.

_They were using Jasper as bait._

After a few moments passed where he was sure that Clarke was going to slip right out of his grip, Bellamy and Finn stepped forward, each grabbing a part of her while Wells and Murphy grabbed onto them. It was completely unnecessary to have five people pulling her up but Monty was awfully grateful for the help and the other teenager probably was too.

Flying backwards, he fell to the floor, red coat dusted in the brown dirt covering the ground, and Clarke flew out of the hole as they continued to tug on her arms, finally getting her out of what easily could’ve been her grave.

Eyes blinking and watery, and his head pounding, he leant up, glaring over at the others. Murphy was alright, extending a hand down to Bellamy while Finn helped Clarke, who was looking over at Wells, the boy staring up at Jasper. There was something on his wound- Clarke had called it a poultice- and Monty hoped that whatever herb or plant they were using, they had some idea of its healing properties.

He was not going to lose his best friend again, not after the first time.


	2. Sweet Nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Monty stared at Jasper. At his face and his nose and his lips and his hair and those ridiculous goggles perched on his head and it took every ounce of strength in him not to lean forward and kiss him. But, he didn't. And God, if he had, he would have found out a lot sooner.'
> 
> monty and jasper are finally reunited and life is sweet. I mean, murphamy is one-sided and clarke loves finn and wells loves clarke but aside from that, I'm perfectly fine.

He grasped a hold of Clarke, helping her walk back to camp. His own head still ached with the fall and when she had winced, he’d scooped a hand around her waist, shook away the part of her that wanted to push him away defiantly and walk herself back.

She easily fell into his side, eyes shining brightly despite the pain. The blonde was always like that, he kind of liked it, and it helped his own spirits, etching a half-hearted smile onto his lips.

“Thanks,” she sighed. Even though she spoke to him, her eyes were still cautiously sweeping over Finn, with his dark hair settled over his face and heaving Jasper between himself and Wells.

Clarke and Monty were lucky enough that they hadn’t had to help; but only on account of their injuries and lack of so-called ’muscle tone’. At hearing that, the blonde had scoffed towards Bellamy, hands settled on her hip and a cock of her head towards Jasper’s best friend.

_“Monty’s brain_ is _his muscle, Blake,”_ she’d quipped, offering Bellamy a smile in return to his snarky comments.

He was partly grateful for her sticking up for him even if he hadn’t really bothered to do it himself. But then, with her hands digging into his waist and her hot breath huffing continuously on his neck as they made their way down a small cliff -way, feet almost simultaneously slipping on the undergrowth below, he was more grateful than ever. If it hadn’t been for Clarke, they never would’ve gotten Jasper back.

The thought made his stomach churn.

“I should be thanking you,” he replied, shaking his head, goose-pimples riddling his exposed flesh in the wind. “For helping Jasper, I mean. He’s all I have. If I lost him—“

“You have us now, Monty,” she soothed. “So don’t mention it. We’re even, okay?”

* * *

 

Finn and Wells carried Jasper back almost the entire way, switching almost half-way to relieve them of the job, Bellamy and Murphy jumping forward to take the next shift. The two carried him back the rest of the way, following the trodden-in trail they had made when leaving. It was a line of squished flowers and patches of dead grass stood on when they left, leaving an undeclared path in its way. Right then, it served them more purpose than it almost ever had.

It was a long journey when Finn stepped forward, offering with a look of concern to take Clarke from Monty, to give him a break, but Monty saw the ulterior motives hidden behind his kind offer. Still, he didn’t complain, and handed her off, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He spent the rest of the ‘Save Jasper’ mission, which was now complete, feeling sorry for Wells, who was staring at Clarke, who was staring at Finn. The teenager told himself it was stupid; that he shouldn’t feel sorry for anyone but himself, but he couldn’t help it. He had already spent ten years feeling bad for his friend whenever people turned him down, it was someone else’s turn.

Besides, he was already occupied with worry to even think about sympathising with Wells, who was pretty much in a similar situation to him- both in love with someone who didn’t love them.

Really, he should’ve felt sorry for himself, or something along those lines- he muttered under his breath that it was pathetic to think like that and really, unrequited love was a total bitch- but no matter how he tried, he kept thinking of Jasper and that made his throat burn like he was going to heave up his breakfast.

Jasper was back. Jasper, the boy who had made him see in colour all those years ago. Jasper, his best friend, the first one he had ever had _. Jasper; his soulmate_.

Monty’s heart beat faster at the realisation, looking nervously over at his soulmate, cradled in-between Murphy and Bellamy.

When they found their way back again, thighs aching and breaths forced and painful, lungs feeling like they were going to explode, Octavia was already waiting. She had her fingernails pressed in her mouth, chewing away at her cuticles anxiously. She bounded up as soon as she saw them, practically flying.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Her face fell when she saw Jasper, moving forward with a scowl- which was no doubt directed at her older brother- to push Bellamy and Murphy out of the way, reaching forward for Monty’s best friend at the same time Monty did, the unconscious boy swaying in-between them. She looked up, nails pressing into Jasper’s back and a thankful smile on her face.

Monty smiled back.

* * *

 

It felt so utterly wrong to be so close to his friend and not be able to touch him or feel his breath against his ear as Jasper muttered something sarcastic to him, or even hear his laugh, and despite having living proof that his friend was alive, the world seemed so dull.

For one cruel moment that seemed to last a lifetime- Monty was almost one-hundred perfect positive that as the time passed, a whole new generation of delinquents had already been born, that’s how long- his entire world was painted in greys and blacks and darkened whites. His heart thuddered against his chest, jumping forward clumsily to feel at Jasper’s wrist for his pulse, a cool breath leaving his mouth when he felt that familiar pumping of blood in the other teenager’s wrist.

“Monty, what are you doing?” a voice inquired, a quick glance up revealing Clarke with rags clenched in her fits and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Is Jasper okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered in return. His cheeks were coloured red as he spoke, looking back down at the body laid out on the make-shift stretcher. “I thought maybe he was gone, you know? I just... I just had the feeling. I had to check and make sure he wasn’t— _Dead_.”

 The blonde pursed her lips as he spoke but didn’t say a word, hand moving to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear, head tilted slightly as if to examine the Asian. Instead, she just sighed, handing forward the rag. “Put this on his head to keep him cool,” she instructed. “He’s developing a fever and we don’t have any medicine yet. I thought the Ark would send some down but for now, we have to get by on what we _do_ have.”

 “Thanks,” the younger boy muttered, voice hushed. He was still very much aware of her presence but didn’t let it show, just dabbed at Jasper’s forehead with the cloth, hand shaking. It was anxiety; not knowing what Clarke wanted or what she was thinking, or even if his best friend was ever going to wake up because he wasn’t sure if he could spend more than one day without him.

The healer kneeled across from him, eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking. It was unnerving but he dared not speak. Instead, he wiped gently at the other boy’s forehead, voices in his head fighting away at the tears that were glistening in his eyes.

 “Monty,” she soothed, voice soft and her hand moving forward to reach for his unoccupied one. He was forced to look at her, forced to let her see his tears. “You see in colour, don’t you? It’s him, isn’t it?”

Everything was Jasper; everything. He wasn’t fool enough to deny himself that, to deny anyone that.

“You see in colour too, Clarke,” he choked, clenching his jaw. It wasn’t any of her business and he wasn’t willing to give her an insight into his tragic backstory. They were friends, sure, but they barely knew one another. Just because they were in the same boat with the same shitty luck didn’t meant a thing. Atleast, he didn’t want it to. Not right then.

Maybe not ever.

* * *

 

Murphy remembered hearing that girl, one with light ginger hair and freckles dashed across the bridge of her nose, splattering just above her collarbones and painted across her cheeks, saying something about Bellamy Blake and his bed.

It most certainly wasn’t fair having to sit around and listen to stories told by girls who saw in colour since they were born and how _his_ soulmate touched her in just the right way or the noises she made that she had never ever made before.

It made him sick, it made him want to lean to the side and heave up the meat of the boar- or whatever that was- into the earth and pretend he hadn’t heard a thing, maybe even kill her over and over in his head; his dreams were usually like that.

He ground his teeth, closing his eyes, the beginning of a sharpened spear still in his calloused hands. With the threat of the grounders, he had taken to making weapons, something, or anything, to protect him against them. If he died, there wasn’t anything but Finn that was stopping Bellamy from making his move on Clarke.

John would have to be an idiot not to notice how his soulmate looked at her; part of him thought it was pathetic and another part of him wanted that for himself. For years he had waited to see in colour, it was just a shame that he never got to see the red of his father’s own blood. He still saw it, he saw the grey of the liquid and when he looked in the mirror, he saw the dark bags under his eyes.

He just wanted to be loved, more than anything.

His eyes flickered open, hues settling over the knife gripped sharply. He moved, chipping off wood and wincing slightly as a splinter sliced into his palm, earning a hiss. It stung like he couldn’t believe and a split second decision almost convinced him to chop his own hand off- because maybe that would take away the ache of the wood chip sliced into the centre of his hand.

The boy raised the injury to his mouth, sucking at the skin as he exhaled a hearty sigh. He knew he should get Clarke to look at it, or maybe wrap it up himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure if she would bother. It was just a prick and yeah, the splinter was still wedged in his flesh, but he had been through worse. He had riddled scars and caves in his skin where skin had been dug out with the tip of his knife. This was just an accident; splinters weren’t all that bad, he’d get over it. Besides, he and the blonde weren’t exactly on the best terms and she obviously didn’t trust him.

He wasn’t going to say it hurt, because, well, it didn’t. But she trusted Bellamy and Bellamy trusted him, and it just so happened that Bellamy turned out to be _his_ soulmate.

“You should get Clarke to have a look at that,” a voice said, a person blocking the sun off his face, their shadow cast upon him. “Does it hurt?”

“Like a bitch,” Murphy sneered, staring down at the wound. It still stung, pricks of blood left on his tongue from the injury. Yeah, it sure as hell hurt that much but he didn’t even know why he was talking to Bellamy in the first place. Fucking Bellamy. He loved him, knew it from the moment he looked at him when they were going down in the dropship and saw the freckles splayed across his face and his dark hair and almost had to blink a few times to allow the colour to seep into his vision. It was one of the most beautiful moments of his life; but one of the saddest too.

Because, well, after that, he had to watch the older boy with the sister flirt with girl after girl, and stare at them with lust in his eyes. And God, life was so unfair.

“You might be able to catch her, she’s up with Jasper,” the man replied, something that could’ve been a smile nestling in the left corner of the mouth.

John found his eyes drifting over the dimples on his face, a scowl crossing his face. “That kid has ruined my sleep for the past few nights with moaning and groaning. It’s shit, Blake. If he doesn’t cut it out soon, I’m not going to be the only one who wants to slit his throat while he sleeps.”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah?” Bellamy said, an amusing expression crossing his face. “Clarke’s taking care of it. If he’s not better in two days, feel free to string him up if you like, whatever strikes your fancy at the time. He’ll probably be dead before then anyway.”

“What’re laughing at?” Murphy barked, eyebrows lifting. He couldn’t stand the thought of the older man finding something to laugh at. He sucked once again at his palm to stem the pain, glaring up at Bellamy through slitted eyes.

The only reply was a headshake, the eldest Blake siblings arms folded over his chest.

“Fuck you,” John spat, face contorting in rage. He had always felt like a joke; like everyone was laughing behind his back at something that he didn’t know about. It was paranoia. He felt like jumping up whenever someone whispered behind his back and holding his blade to their throat, anything to show them that they couldn’t just get away with—

“Murphy,” Bellamy muttered, shaking his head once-again. “Do you see in colour?” It was a fair enough question to ask but the younger of the two felt himself squirming where he sat, the ache of the splitter since forgotten.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing. He swore it was so loud that Bellamy could probably hear it but he didn’t care, just looked down at the sharp end of his spear and feigned interest in it.  “Fuck you,” Murphy repeated.

“Murphy—“

“It’s none of your business,” he managed to say, inhaling a deep breath to steady himself. He managed to count to almost eleven before he was able to speak again. “Just piss off, Bellamy.”

“I see in colour,” Bellamy said. It wasn’t a secret but a statement, and he seemed kind of proud of it, or maybe he was just being smug. The man sighed when he got no response, shifting around to catch Murphy’s gaze, eyes narrowed. “I know you do too, John.”

It caught him off guard, his words making Murphy’s stomach squeeze tight with anxiety. “So what, Bellamy?” he hissed, shoving his spear off his lap to stand before his soulmate- because he couldn’t say that any more than he already had. Soulmates; they were soulmates and as shitty as that seemed, he wasn’t sure if he could ever spent the rest of his life with someone else.

“You think I’m in love with Clarke,” came the reply, an arrogant smile pressed upon the face of Octavia’s brother. “And I thought you were in-love with my sister so I guess we’re even, huh?”

“This isn’t about being even, you prick,” Murphy spat, teeth bared as he argued, voice louder than he originally anticipated. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you? You let me follow after you and cater to your every _freakin_ ’ need and you knew that the only reason I stuck to you when we got here was because I didn’t see in black and white anymore.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Asshole,” he whispered in return, fist clenching. He wanted to wipe the smile off Bellamy’s face, to make him bleed and feel what he had felt but he didn’t because another part of him didn’t want to see the man in pain. So, instead, he dug his half-moon nails into his palm and choked back another insult, counting up numbers in his head. By the time Bellamy replied, he had already reached thirty-four.

He cleared his throat, shifting from side-to-side and biting down on his top lip, eyes steady on Murphy. “So Monty was right?” he asked, a little more awkwardly than he would’ve preferred, nonetheless, the words were steady and clear.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

* * *

 

“You should see the way Murphy looks at him,” Monty sighed, knees pulled up to his chest. Clarke was tilting her head, a soft smile tugging at each corner of his mouth. “It’s how Wells looks at you...“

“How you look at Jasper—” she interrupted, tilting her head in recognition. She was testing the waters, tongue darting out to lick across her bottom lip, wetting them. Her words were stuttered for a bit before she was finally to talk but still, she sounded unsure. “Is that what you mean?”

The younger boy shook his head, shoulders heaving with a shrug. “No, that’s different,” he muttered. “I’ve been Jasper’s soulmate for ten years, you guys only just met.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not his?” Clarke asked, leaning forward. “Have you ever asked him? Has he ever told you for sure that he couldn’t see in colour, Monty?”

“He can’t. I know he can’t.”

The blonde frowned, looking over at Jasper as he stirred in unconsciousness, a long whine pressed from between his lips. “You know, you shouldn’t just say he isn’t if you don’t know for sure. Maybe he thought you weren’t his, right? I mean, you said you’ve seen in colour since you were only five, so it’s possible that he didn’t even know what that meant when it happened so he doesn’t remember.”

“Two years ago I was helping him pick out his clothes so the colours matched, Clarke. B-Because he didn’t know if they did or not. He doesn’t see in colour, he doesn’t.”

She crawled across the floor of the dropship to sit at his side, head resting on his shoulder, her legs spread out in-front of her. Her face was warm and he was glad for the comfort it brought. It was more personal affection than anyone had shown him in years.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, voice almost unheard. Her hand reached for his, giving it a gentle squeeze as if to reassure him, and she shifted closer, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him, eyes wide with concern. “If it makes you feel better, we’re both probably going to die in winter.”

She attempted a weak laugh and when he didn’t so much as smile at her words, she sat back, head resting against the inside wall of the dropship, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, words breathy.

Part of him wondered if things would be easier had Jasper died; had the spear pierced his heart and left him rotting away with the sign to Mount Weather by his side, his only companion in death. And at the thought, tears welled their way into Monty’s eyes.

“You don’t need to be,” he told her, taking the chance to look over at the boy he loved and a broken sob escaped his throat.

Monty stared at Jasper. At his face and his nose and his lips and his hair and those ridiculous goggles perched on his head and it took every ounce of strength in him not to kneel by his side and kiss him. But, he didn't. And God, if he had, he would have found out a lot sooner.


	3. Spear Me Your Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Monty accepted Octavia’s hand when it slid into his, her back against the wall beside him, heads tilted back up the ceiling, breathing slow and shallow. It had been too long since Jasper had been speared; too long since they’d heard his voice or sat next to him by the fire.  
> Jasper was Monty’s whole world and he couldn’t afford to lose him, not after everything they had been through.'
> 
> the last chapter in the series! it's super sad and super sweet so enjoy. and the title is because it's three in the morning and i think i'm funny.

Monty had always wondered why he was different and he had never been able to figure it out, at all, until the moment he did. Because whenever he was away from Jasper Jordan, he was colour blind, but when his best friend crossed his vision, there was his colour vision back, bright as day, and it took some time, thinking to himself while his soulmate laid dying, but eventually he got it.

Years locked up in the prison only seeing in black and white until his friend walked past and not being able to see in colour unless he could see Jasper clearly, and finally, the thought clicked as he relived the memory.

Except Monty wasn’t entirely sure if he was prepared to accept it.

Maybe, he was different. He already knew he was; that had been abundantly clear since he started listening to that old woman’s on Hydra’s stories and wondering when he was seven why one-sided soulmates existed and why whenever his best friend was away, or they separated to do their own thing, he only saw in black and white.

To test his theory, he left Jasper’s side and trudged down the ladder, waiting a bit for the distance to kick in and sure enough, the colour was gone. He almost hit himself for being so stupid.

The very moment he could see the top of his friend’s head as he clinged to the ladder, climbing just up far enough so he could peek, there were hues splashing across his vision and he took a minute, eyes closed, to appreciate it, to try and understand why things were the way they were.

As far as he knew, that blinding white and black that crossed his vision whenever he parted from his best friend wasn’t normal. When you met your soul mate, you saw in colour until they died, not until you couldn’t see them anymore.

Monty shook his head, returning to Jasper’s side, rewetting the cloth on his head to bring down his fever, Clarke’s orders as camp healer, and resting his head on the makeshift bed before propping himself up on one elbow, leaning forward to meet the skin of his friend’s cheeks with his lips. “Hang in there,” he whispered. “For me.”

Jasper tried because he heard the voice, he heard Monty’s words and he tried so hard to keep himself alive, to hold in there just enough to live. He was desperate to hear more, to continue listening to Monty’s small humming of sentences; dying wasn’t fun.

_“For me.”_

His friend sounded so desperate and he went to move his hand to stroke at the air where Monty’s face would be when he felt soft lips press against his skin, resting there- they were very warm- for a few beats of his heart before they were pulled away, replaced instead by coldness and emptiness.

Jasper Jordan fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake for two days.

* * *

 

_When Bellamy Blake was seven and Octavia Blake was just born and wrapped up in a blanket, he remembered how colour started to seep into his left eye and after a few blinks, his vision was a mess of black, greys, blues and reds. He hugged her closer, let his hair fall into his face. “I love you,” he whispered, torn between feeling disgusted that the little thing in his arms was his soulmate- but strictly platonically he told himself- or feeling confused. One eye? Only eye?_

_He spent years walking around the Ark, trying to wait until he found the person that could douse the vision in his right eye in colour and it was only on the dropship, eyes scanning nervously for his baby sister that he saw Murphy, staring at the boy in curiosity. He looked like a Grade A serial killer, definitely not someone Bellamy wanted to be with for the rest of his life but a few hours later, they were standing side-by-side, talking about wristbands and privileged children like Clarke and Wells, and then later, probably a day, the eldest Blake was cleaning up a wound on Murphy’s arm and scolding him for recklessness and telling him ‘you almost died’ about twenty times while he shook his head._

_It barely even occurred to him that maybe, maybe, Murphy thought he was in love with someone else._

_Bellamy tugged girl after girl after girl into his tent and every single time after, they would lie on his chest swirling patterns into it and start talking about how the idea of soulmates was total bogus and they had seen in colour their entire lives so it was- pardon his French- “complete bullshit.” He wanted to tell them they were wrong, that he had a soulmate and he liked it but he didn’t, just kept his mouth shut and sometime after, tugged his shirt over his head and kissed them goodbye; he barely remembered their name three days later but they sure remembered his._

_Disaster and sadness had a way of remaking a heart and Bellamy’s was definitely made for John Murphy, or so he told himself just right now, lying next to him and trying to ask himself if he’d made a mistake._

_Murphy moved over and kissed him, scowl still on his face, and Bellamy stopped questioning himself because he had definitely not made a mistake- if being with John was a mistake, so be it._

* * *

 

Monty accepted Octavia’s hand when it slid into his, her back against the wall beside him, heads tilted back up the ceiling, breathing slow and shallow. It had been too long since Jasper had been speared; too long since they’d heard his voice or sat next to him by the fire.

Jasper was Monty’s whole world and he couldn’t afford to lose him, not after everything they had been through.

“We should drink,” the youngest Blake voiced. “You have any of that moonshine left?”

The boy turned his head so he could glance at her, accepting the way she squeezed his hand in comfort. “Monroe and Myles have been drinking it like crazy,” he admitted. “So I don’t know if there’ll be enough. Ask Harper.”

Standing with an ache, the brunette ventured down the ladder, feet clanging on the rungs as she left.

He couldn’t blame her for wanting to drink, there was nothing more he wanted to do right then but if something happened to his best friend- if he ended up seeing in black and white for the rest of his life- then he would never be able to forgive himself for his carelessness. He had to stay conscious and sober, that was all. There was no way in hell that they had been spared from death at eighteen and sent to earth just to die.

Fuck that.

“Jasper,” he whispered weakly, knowing that his soulmate wouldn’t hear him. It was worth a try. “Please wake up. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t messed up and forgotten to replace what we took—“ Even Monty Green wasn’t capable enough to stop the tears that came into his vision, blurring his eyesight, and he choked on his words. “If you die, I’ll die.”

“Monty,” a voice said, the owner of the name turning up to catch Clarke’s gaze, her blue eyes clouded with pity. “How is he doing?”

The boy turned away from her to hide his face, bringing his sleeve to his cheek to wipe at the tear rolling down his cheek. “H-He’s okay,” he managed to whisper. “Been better, I guess, but getting speared tends to take that out of you.”

“See you’ve still got a sense of humour,” the blonde smiled. “Even when your soulmate is down. I can appreciate that.”

Monty opened his mouth to disagree with her but she was pressing forward, moving to kneel by Jasper’s side, fingers pressing against his neck. “Pulse is good,” she commented. “And he’s breathing fine. No signs of poison—“

“Don’t let him die.”

The voice was so meek and quiet that the girl looked up to meet they younger teenager’s gaze, his knees pulled up to his chest, back against the steel wall of the dropship.  “Please.”

“I don’t intend to,” Clarke said, hoping that it brought the other some sort of comfort, eyes softened with pity as she stared over at him. “I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure Jasper stays alive, okay? I think we could both do with him not dying right now.”

“Good news!” Octavia’s voice interrupted, appearing through the hole in the floor with a bottle of something alcoholic in her hand. “We have just enough in here to get drunk. It’s disgusting but I love it.”

Clarke regarded her with a look of judgement but it quickly passed. “You’re drinking?”

“Shut up, Doc, and enjoy this,” the youngest Blake sighed, walking over to join Monty against the wall. “There’s not much left unless mastermind here manages to mix some up and Harper said if we didn’t drink it then it was hers for the taking so—“ Octavia tossed the lid into the corner as Monty scrambled to pick it up, lifting the glass into the air.  “Bottoms up.”

* * *

 

_Wells had loved Clarke since they’d met and his father had teased him about it for weeks after even though he was only five._

_“She digs you,” his dad said, lips twisting into a smile. “Get it, son? Dig?”_

_The blonde was pretty and young and smart, and he loved looking at her because she was colour; she was what made his heart skip and let him see the world how it should be. It barely occurred to him that she didn’t like him like that nor was she meant to end up with him and that became abundantly clear when he was clutching a hand to his neck and staring up at his murderer in confusion, fingers throbbing with pain._

_He loved Clarke and he was partly glad that she wasn’t going to see in black and white for the rest of her life because he was dead. She was lucky._

_And he told himself seconds before death, as he bled out, that they were never supposed to be together. Wells Jaha was always meant to die and as he laid on the ground with blood pooling from the wound in his neck, he was okay with that._

* * *

 

“You know what? If Jasper doesn’t wake up, I say we keep him. He can be our alarm clock or something; keep us from getting a goodnight’s sleep.”

“Octavia, you’re a terrible human being,” Clarke scolded, though she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “Besides, he’s going to wake up. If he doesn’t... But he will, I’m sure of it. We just need more time.”

“Clarke, we don’t have time. My brother will kill him, you know that.”

Monty sat in the corner, shaking his head. “No offence but your brother is a jackass,” he said, reaching forward to retrieve the bottle of liquor. “And I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Drink up,” Finn said, having joined their merry band of three not long ago. “Won’t be able to drink when the adults get down here. Might as well enjoy it, right?”

* * *

 

_Finn didn’t see in colour when he met Raven. She did, sometimes she would put her hands under his jacket when they were cold and tell him it was nice and blue and she really liked it; it matched his eyes or something. He felt bad for watching her time but he couldn’t find it in himself to let her go. He loved her and he was okay with her not being his soulmate as long as he never met them._

_That was, until Clarke Griffin came along._

_As soon as he saw her sitting next to the chancellor’s son, he blinked, almost gasping loudly when he saw her; she had blonde hair and blue eyes and she was pretty, but not as pretty as Raven, about equal._

_Finn Collins saw Clarke Griffin and he wanted her, they were soulmates after all, and he promised himself, floating about in the air as he introduced himself, that for as long as he lived- and he hoped that was a long time- he was going to keep her forever in his sights. No way was he ever going to see in black and white, and no way was he going to be able to look away from her long enough._

* * *

 

_Raven Reyes spent most of her childhood watching her mother barter away her rations for moonshine, patching up her own clothes with a needle pricking her finger, and standing over a sink to trim her own hair. She was never particularly sad and enjoyed working alone, most of the time, but birthdays sucked, probably even more than the few other holidays they celebrated._

_Her mom was never home and her father was dead, and she was sitting in her room, with a substandard copy of some childhood book she had once enjoyed and crying. It wasn’t blubbering or lip quivering but silent tears tracking their way down her face._

_She sucked them up, told herself that she deserved better. A year later, she met Finn. He was younger than her but luckier- and she was envious towards him though she tried not to be- and one year after the book/crying combo of a birthday, he was sitting next to her, sharing a small piece of cake and she was licking her lips of the frosting and then her fork and then kissing him on the cheek._

_“Thanks, Finnegan,” Raven had said, short brown hair cut around her face, done by herself, and passing the rest of the cake to him, feeling guilty for eating more._

_He shoved the rest of the treat to her, holding his hands up. “It’s all yours, Reyes,” he grinned. “And call me Finn. That’s what my friends usually call me.”_

_Friends._

_She liked that. And she liked him even more._

_Just so happened that the day she saw him, she found out just how beautifully brown her eyes were and how ugly that green sweater was, despite how comfortable it was, it definitely clashed with her favourite pair of shoes, which, I know you didn’t ask but I’m going to tell you anyway, were the most hideous shade of dark blue._

_“Soulmates”, she said aloud. “Soulmates.”_

_She liked it._

* * *

 

_Clarke saw in colour when she saw the spacewalker. She didn’t say anything because she didn’t have to._

_But when the ship landed and she still saw in colour, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. And they were soulmates. Could be worse, she could’ve been stuck with some asshole who believed the sun shone out of his ass._

_Or hey, maybe she had been._

_She still didn’t say anything just asked if he was alright and when he nodded, her breath caught in her throat and she nodded back._

_“Soulmates, huh?” she whispered, pouring over a map, pencil shaking in her hand. “Lucky me.”_

* * *

 

For as long as Jasper had known Monty, he had seen in colour. He pretended not to because he was scared or was worried about what his friend would think if he told him, and it only became abundantly clear that he was Monty’s soulmate when he overheard Clarke say it to Monty. His heart was beating fast and comatose-Jasper felt himself choke on his own saliva. It was a hell of a surprise, yeah, and he made the mental note to tell his best friend as soon as he woke up.

When he was lying, or dying, there, he wanted to jump up and fist his hand in the front of his friend’s shirt and kiss him because, well, they were soulmates. Jasper Jordan wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone like Monty Green.

Eventually, he managed to open his eyes slightly and weakly mutter out something that was very Jasper-esque and Finn, Octavia and Monty were by his side; his friends. His heartbeat was racng much too fast and he managed to cough before he felt his soulmate’s hand burning warmth into his leg where it rested on his calf, and it was too hot and far too much for him to handle.

The teenager glanced over at Octavia- at the girl he knew that Monty thought was his soulmate which was very unture because yes, he wanted to kiss her and yes, she was pretty, but she wasn’t Monty- and offered her a small smile, laughing slightly when she smirks back at him.

“Jasper,” a voice muttered. “You scared me so much.”

“Monty,” he breathed.

“Jasper,” Monty repeated, this time moving to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. “You almost died, you jerk. It’s your ego, you know. It’s so big that you had to jump to impress Octavia and you almost died and you can’t ever do that to me again—“ the boy paused, moving to punch Jasper lightly in the arm. “—Because I was so scared and you’re my best friend and if you ever left me—Don’t do that again.”

Finn and Octavia saw that as their cue to leave. Finn tugged on the youngest Blake’s arm, signalling with his head that they had to go and they were only intruding if they stayed and down they went through the hatch, feet clanging on the ground level of the dropship.

“Monty,” he repeated.

His friend shook his head, frowning. “I thought I had lost you, Jas. I thought that for the rest of my life, I was going to see in black and wh— _Shit.”_

“Monty,” he repeated once again, eyes widening at the confession.

“Shit, Jasper, shit. I didn’t mean—I’m not—We’re not—I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I know you don’t—Dude—I should have told you but you’re with Octavia and you guys are soulmates and – Shit, Jasper, shit. Shit.”

“Monty,” he repeated again, and again, until the owner of the name finally stopped panicking and looked over at him. “I love you, man.”

“I know, Jasper,” the younger boy replied. “You’ve told me before but now is not the time. I honestly didn’t think you’d take the news this well—“

“No, Monty, I mean, _I love you.”_

Monty’s eyes drifted up, hands stopped fiddling and he stopped breathing for a brief second before he took a step forward, considering it until he finally shook his head, swallowing the nervousness bundling in his throat. “You like girls.”

“I like guys, too,” he whispered, a slight smile working its way upon his face. “And I like you. I don’t like Octavia, Monty.”

Monty had to take a minute to think, looking down at the ground in confusion, trying to let the thought of what Jasper had said process through his mind. All those years of watching him flirt with girls and the most recent hours of pining over Bellamy Blake’s little sister- except, he wasn’t- were for nothing. They were soulmates, as confusing as it seemed. “I love you, too.”

* * *

 

Harper had seen her whole life in black and white until she had met Monroe after they landed on earth, a feisty and pretty teenage girl that was slightly around her age, and so, one day, she stood at her side, finger on the trigger of her gun, and leant in closer to her. “Hey, I, uh, think we might be soulmates,” she stuttered. “You’re really brave, you know. The way you helped save Octavia from the Grounder, Bellamy really appreciates it.”

“You see in colour too?” Monroe asked, looking up at her in wonder before she reached forward, taking a gentle hold of Harper’s bicep, offering a soothing smile. “I thought—I wasn’t sure. So, was it me?”

“Yeah, it was,” Harper said.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Monty was already sprawled out on his bed, orange blanket pulled over him and soft snores coaxed from his mouth every few minutes. He was passed out cold. Likely from the moonshine they had drunk before because god, they were almost one-hundred percent going to have wicked hangovers the day after. Jasper and Monty, and the rest of the delinquents, sure would miss that when the adults came down to run things.

Moonshine was one of the best parts of being friends with Monty, apart from the whole ‘we’re totally in love’ thing. Making out was also a bonus of that and the drunken games of truth or dare with Bellamy, Octavia- much to her brother’s disgust-, Clarke, Raven and Murphy, and sometimes Harper or Monroe, or both. It was fun; most of the time.

The best part, undeniably, was the friendship.

Even if they spent hours every night spooning or days holding hands or afternoons sitting by the fire sharing a blanket or mornings stumbling tiredly out of their tent and eating breakfast together, nothing would beat what they had always had; not the love but the family, the bond that couldn’t be broken.

“What are you doing?” Monty whispered, rolling over in bed with his eyes shut, lips opened just enough so he could talk. He was still tired, hair sticking out at odd angles and blanket falling down from around him as he leant up, one eye open to look at Jasper in scrutiny. “I was waiting up—I feel asleep. You took too long.”

“I thought you were sleeping, babe,” Jasper replied, a pale blush crossing his face when he’d realised what he said and before his boyfriend- boyfriend, he liked the sound of that- could interject, he kicked off his shoes, then pulled off his socks. Shit, it was cold, and he found himself walking as quickly as he could to the bed, motioning for Monty to make room. “Move over, yeah?”

“Sure thing _, babe_.”

Jasper muttered something about how much he hated him- and how sarcastic he was-before he lowered himself into the bed, hissing. It was cold under the blankets and he moved his feet to put them over Monty’s, sighing at the warmth. “You’re warm,” he muttered into his pillow.

“Jasper?”

“Hmm, yeah?” he hummed, eyes squeezed shut in the darkness. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why his friend was talking to him just as he was falling asleep but he spoke anyway, waiting. He was so tired, so, so tired, and tomorrow, he had night watch and had promised Bellamy he would go on a hunt for their winter stocks, and he couldn’t afford to not sleep that night but—

“Kiss me,” came the other teenager’s quiet reply, the tips of his fingers brushing underneath Jasper’s chin, stroking it until he opened his eyes, face-to-face with Monty, just able to make it out in the night.

So, he complied, moving forward with his eyes half-opened, squinting so he could find the shape of Monty’s lips and pressing his own against them. Screw getting up early, screw the morning hunt, he told himself, deviously adding ‘Screw Monty’ onto the end of his list, each corner of his mouth twisting into a smile as he kissed his boyfriend, hand scrunching in Monty’s shirt to tug him closer.

“Whatever you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read these three chapters and especially to those who left kudos and comments, you guys keep me going and it's lovely to know that you like this! Tell me if you liked this? It took me forever to get it up because I wanted it to be perfect so, all my rambling aside, I love you all so much for your support and kindness, a big hug and lots of kisses to you all!


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